Tradition
by sunsetbabe17
Summary: Steve frowned down at his meal of turkey, mashed potatoes, and peas. He was probably the only one celebrating the holiday here, as Thanksgiving wasn't really celebrated in the country he found himself in this month. He put his head in his hands and stabbed his now cold turkey, which brought to mind a happier Thanksgiving. Steve's first Thanksgiving post CA:CW. One-shot


**Disclaimer: Marvel owns the Avengers. This takes place post Captain America: Civil War. Just a little something for the holiday.**

 **Tradition**

Steve frowned down at his meal of turkey, mashed potatoes, and peas. He was probably the only one celebrating the holiday here as Thanksgiving wasn't really celebrated in the country he found himself in this month. He thought he would be celebrating with Bucky again like old times, but his best friend was still in cryofreeze as the Wakandan doctors and technicians tried to figure out how to rid him of his programming. Bucky didn't want to risk hurting anyone again if the Winter Soldier were to make an appearance since the book with the code words was still out there somewhere. Steve had been trying ever since to find this elusive book with no such luck. His latest lead had ended up a bust. He put his head in his hands and stabbed his now cold turkey, which brought to mind a happier Thanksgiving.

 _Begin Flashback_

Natasha Romanoff quietly walked through the underground garage with her partner. It was late and and the garage was empty aside from their vehicles. They had just gotten back from a mission that lasted a little longer then expected and she couldn't wait to get home and crash in her bed.

"So any special plans for tomorrow?" she knew how hyped up Americans got over the holidays and tomorrow was national turkey day, aka Thanksgiving.

Steve just shrugged, "The usual, I guess." He hadn't really thought too much about the holiday as he didn't really have any friends in this time. "Goodnight," he hopped on his motorcycle and sped off into the night.

Natasha started her car and then sat back, thinking. Sighing, she leaned her head against the steering wheel as she came to a conclusion.

She texted Barton, 'Change of plans. I won't be coming tomorrow.'

Surely he wouldn't mind, the kids might but she would just have to make it up to them later. This was the right thing to do, he was her partner after all. Though she's positive there's never quite been a partnership like theirs before. American's golden boy 70 years passed his time and a former Russian assassin. She rolled her eyes as she realized sleep would have to wait a little longer.

Steve startled from his position on the couch as he heard a bang the next day, dropping his sketch book. Was that a knock or had someone just run into his door? But before he could decide either way he heard, "Rogers, I know you're in there, let me in."

Not one to keep a lady waiting, much less one that could easily kill him, he quickly closed his sketchbook and opened the door for the Black Widow.

"What is all this?" he asked as she walked in, arms loaded with groceries. Arms full she had obviously just kicked his door to grab his attention.

"We're celebrating Thanksgiving." Natasha stated matter of fact and pulled a turkey out of one of the bags, making it clear that he really had no choice in the matter. She had done a little breaking and entering last night as no stores were open due to the holiday and stolen a few things. Well maybe she had left some money to cover the items she had taken, the boy scout must have been rubbing off on her.

"Uh.." Steve rubbed the back of his neck, not really sure what to do.

"Here," he reflexively caught the beer she had tossed at him, "Go watch some football or something. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" At least that's what Clint always did.

"You sure?" He would offer to help with the cooking, but to be honest he wasn't much of a cook.

"Yeah, yeah I got this," Natasha confidently pushed him out of his own kitchen.

"Laura makes this look so easy." Natasha grumbled as she stirred her runny mashed potatoes, not really sure were she went wrong nor how to fix it. Giving up, she bent down and pulled the turkey out of the oven.

She let loose several Russian expletives as she stabbed the still frozen bird. She spun around at the burst of laughter from behind her.

"The bird's already dead you know." Steve leaned in the door frame.

"Are you laughing at me?" Natasha glared with no real heat, she doesn't think she's seen the man before her actually smile since he'd been thawed from the ice. She mentally patted herself on the back, mission accomplished, even if they didn't have anything to eat now.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, realizing he might have offended her after she had been trying to be nice and cook him a meal when she probably had other plans. "It's just I've never seen you so frazzled before." And he had seen her in some tough situations, had even launched her off his shield to hitch a ride on a flying alien aircraft without her batting an eye, even remarking that it would be fun.

Now she stood before him, cheeks flushed, hair frizzy from the heat of the kitchen, and using her deadly skills on an already dead turkey.

"Well I've never actually cooked a turkey before," she smirked. She looked over the rest of the food, nothing looking all that edible, "Sorry about your dinner."

"It's fine," he reassured, "Pepperoni or cheese?"

"Pepperoni," he reached in and grabbed the frozen pizza, popping it into the already warm oven.

Natasha gratefully sank into the couch cushions with Steve as they waited for their pizza. They sat in awkward silence, watching the football game that was on. Outside of work, they didn't really hang out so they didn't really know what to say to each other. Also, Steve still wasn't used to talking to women especially one as intimidating as his partner.

Steve popped up once the timer went off, indicating that the pizza was ready.

"Dinner is served," with a flourish he handed her her plate as if it was something much fancier than frozen pizza.

"Finally," she rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

"Hey, that was on you," he exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger in her direction.

"Quiet you." She slapped away the offending digit. "And who are we rooting for anyway," she nodded at the game playing on the TV.

He then launched into details on the two teams and how the game worked because this was one thing that hadn't changed since his time. It felt good to be the one explaining something for a change. And she let him, even feigning interest when she didn't particularly care for the American sport and in fact knew all about it due to an undercover mission she had gone on several years ago.

When they were finished, she collected their plates and set them down in the sink to be washed later.

"Oh I almost forgot, there's apple pie," store bought so it had been saved from her culinary disaster.

"Whoa," she startled as Steve was suddenly by her side after having literally vaulted over the back of the couch.

"My favorite," then he started digging around in the freezer, "Yes!" he triumphantly pulled out a pint of vanilla ice cream.

Once it was prepared to his satisfaction, he started shoveling in pie by the forkful. She softly smiled at his boyish antics, often times she forgot that he was so young when he went into the ice and was truly only a young man.

Pausing, he gestured to the pie, "You don't want any?"

She lightly shook her head, red hair swaying, "Pie's not really my thing."

"Oh come on have you ever had it warmed up, topped with ice cream? Here try it," suddenly a fork was floating in front of her face and as she gasped in surprise he took the opportunity to feed her. She had to admit, normally she found pie boring what with all the needless crust, but warmed up with the melty ice cream actually improved the taste. Or maybe it was just the little smile that stole over his face and that look of anticipation in his eyes as he awaited her approval. No doubt in his mind that she would like it.

She wiped the corner of her mouth where some ice cream had landed, "You're right that is good," and he smiled even wider in delight, practically bouncing with glee.

They then made their way back to the couch and watched "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown", which Steve had never seen before, as Steve polished off the rest of the pie.

He turned to ask Natasha what she would like to watch next after the credits started rolling, only to find the petite woman curled up and fast asleep on the other end of the couch. Glancing at his watch, he hadn't realized how late it was and he knew she hadn't gotten much sleep on their mission. He had actually been surprised and touched at how much work and effort she had put into trying to make this an enjoyable holiday for him, his first Thanksgiving out of the ice, which he thought he would spend all by his lonesome.

Pulling the afghan off the back of the couch, he draped it over her sleeping form and leaned over to drop a kiss on her forehead, "Thanks, Nat."

She smiled slightly in her sleep, that was a first for her partner. Usually not one for nicknames, just ask Clint, it had taken him ages to be able to call her anything other than Natasha without receiving a punch or a glare. But she liked the way Steve called her Nat.

 _End Flashback_

Suddenly not all that hungry Steve threw some money down to cover his dinner and pushed away from the table.

He opened the door to his current hotel room and jerked up his head in alarm, something wasn't right. That's when he spotted Natasha, lounging on his bed.

Holding up a slice of pizza in a salute, "Didn't want to mess with tradition, I know how you Americans are about your traditions," she teased and a smile lit up his face, that same one from that first Thanksgiving they spent together. She loved bringing that smile to his face.

Steve shrugged off his jacket and piled his plate high with pizza, his appetite returning and he spied the apple pie and the hand crafted turkey with Lila Barton's loopy signature.

Picking it up he showed it to her with a raised brow. The spy just shrugged, "She wanted Uncle Steve to have it."

Uncle Steve had a nice ring to it he thought and was glad to see that the Bartons were doing well even after the whole mess with the Sokovia Accords.

Then he jumped onto the bed, causing Natasha to giggle and scramble to keep her food from landing on the bed. Yes, he just made the Black Widow giggle like the young girl she never was. In return she leaned over and ripped his Dodgers baseball cap off his head, ruffling his hair.

"You still have soooo much to learn about trying to disguise your identity."

He gave her a light shove, "Well my teacher hasn't exactly been around."

"Touche," she settled in, using his shoulder to prop herself up instead of the headboard as they watched the football game. And sticking to tradition when he clicked off the TV and glanced down he found Natasha fast asleep using him as a pillow. She looked peaceful for once even with the bags under her eyes, giving away the stress she'd been under as of late. He delicately brushed some of her fiery locks out of her face so as to not wake her and kissed the top of her head.

"Goodnight, Nat," and perfectly content where he was, he closed his eyes and soon fell asleep with a small smile creeping onto his face.


End file.
